The Tales of Ezekiel
by TheRedViper
Summary: After being shipwrecked off the coast of Winterhold, Ezekiel reaches to dry land and sets off on a journey in search of fame and riches, but instead gets caught up in war and a struggle for survival. On his journey he sees many interesting people and places, and gets stuck in the middle of battles and politics. Rated M for graphic violence, sex and language. Read at own discretion.
1. Chapter 1 - Shipwrecked

He opened his eyes and coughed out a mouthful of water. All around him water was gushing through the shattered walls of the hull. Broken planks of wood were strewn about, now floating on the ever increasing flood of water. It was up to Ezekiel's knees by the time he pulled himself up in pain. He looked over himself, searching for the cause of the pain, but found nothing. _It must be my head, _he thought, patting and feeling around up there. When he felt a slickness he looked at his hand and saw it was covered in blood. It was all coming back to him now; the sudden, jarring collision, the smash in the side of the hull, the water pouring inside, and him slipping over and hitting the side of his head on a crate. That was when he passed out.

_I need to get out of here._

Wading as quickly as he could through the knee-high water, Ezekiel approached the corpse of a sailor a few feet away. He was lying face down in the water, and had no visible wounds, so Ezekiel assumed he was knocked out like he was and then drowned. Crouching down, Ezekiel began patting around the man's waist. He found what he was looking for; a pouch of gold. It wasn't very heavy, but anything would suffice. He tucked it away securely in his back pocket. He was about to stand up and go when he noticed the dagger the man bore on the other side of his waist. Ezekiel slipped it out from the man's breaches and examined it. It was iron and was beginning to rust, but that didn't matter. He'd buy a proper weapon later. _If I survive this shipwreck that is._

The water was now approaching his waist, so Ezekiel wasted no more time with the corpse. He waded as quickly as he could towards the other end of the hull, where the wooden steps that led up to deck were. He was nearly there when something seemed to collide with the ship. Ezekiel fell backwards into the water, but managed to keep his head above it. Whatever it was that hit the ship this time, it was big and hard, for now the wall next to the stairs exploded in wood. More water rushed inside, and Ezekiel was dismayed when the stairs were shattered by the force that hit the ship. The water now dangerously high, Ezekiel got himself back up and desperately waded as fast as he could across the hull to where the large hole in the wall was. The area of roof right above the wall that had broken apart was destroyed as well, leaving a large enough gap to swim out of. Putting the dagger between his teeth, Ezekiel began swimming as hard and fast as he could towards the hole. The constant rushing of water against him made it harder than usual, but he persisted. _I'm nearly there. I've nearly made it._

He passed through the shattered wall of the hull and emerged into the ocean. As far as he could see stretched out before him was water. Gasping for air as the water splashed into his mouth, Ezekiel turned and grabbed a hold of the sinking ship. It wasn't a very large vessel, consisting of only a single deck and a hull beneath full of crates and barrels of various foods, and the crew was only eight, including the captain. With the last of his strength, Ezekiel hauled himself up and clambered onto the top of the ship, which was now the side of it, as it had slowly turned sideways as it sunk. He desperately looked around for anything to make for.

_Aha, there it is. Land._

About three hundred feet away was the coastline. It was drab and stony and muddy, but it was land. Behind it were the tundras and snow-capped trees. Further away to the east of the coastline were towering cliffs and mountains. Ezekiel knew little of this place, but he knew that behind them lay Winterhold, and its mage college. That's where he'd go. Not the college, since he knew absolutely nothing of magic, but the town. He'd find safety there, and food and a bed as well, as least for the night.

He felt the ship beginning to sink even deeper down into the icy ocean, so Ezekiel peered around him to see if there was anything else to grab onto. He wouldn't last very long swimming the three hundred feet to land in freezing cold waters wearing nothing but a top and breaches. He didn't even have anything on his feet. All that he could see was a large collection of shattered and drifting ice pieces, all about six to ten feet large. They would have to do. Ezekiel noticed a dark lump on one of them. When he shaded his eyes from the sun and peered, he saw that it was a body. _A corpse, more like._

The closest piece of ice was twenty feet away, so Ezekiel wasted no time. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and dived into the water. It was just as freezing cold as before, but this time he was jolted by the shock of hitting it all at once. He suppressed a curse - since that would open his mouth, subsequently letting water in and losing the dagger - and began swimming. He lifted his head above the water and sucked in the air. Another few painfully cold seconds later and he reached the ice. With one hand he took the dagger from his mouth and tossed it onto the ice before pulling himself up and rolling onto his back, panting from the effort. He lay like this for a full minute before climbing back onto his feet, picking up the dagger and spotting his next destination; the ice piece with the corpse on it. Thankfully it was only a few feet away, so he wouldn't have to do any more swimming for the moment.

Ezekiel took a few steps back, readied himself, and sprinted. He took four quick steps before launching himself into the air. His arms waved about wildly as he went through the air, and in a couple of seconds he felt his feet hit the ice, and he knew he made it. He sighed with relief.

Ezekiel turned around and cast a glance where the ship had been, to see it now nearly entirely submerged under water, only a few feet of it still sticking out. Several drowned corpses had began to appear and float around it. _It would seem I was the only lucky one,_ he thought satisfied. The others had been nothing to him, and he would not mourn them.

Turning his attention to the corpse at his feet, Ezekiel realized this was the captain of the ship _The Long Voyager. _Ezekiel crouched down and looked over the man. He was bald, but had a bushy beard. His face was very pale. Presumably he had tried to swim away from the ship, but he must have swallowed too much water. With his last breathes he must have clambered up onto the ice. _Not that it did him any good._

He was wearing a thick fur coat, so that was the first thing Ezekiel took. The warmth of it embraced him as he pulled it on. At the man's hip was a sword sheath. Ezekiel took out the iron longsword inside and examined it. It was in better condition than the dagger, and was a much more useful weapon in general. Knowing this, Ezekiel picked up the dagger and tossed it into the water. He'd have no need of it now that he had a longsword, and the extra weight would only be a burden on him. Next he took the captain's boots, which were leather with a fur lining. As he slipped his shivering feet into them, Ezekiel had never felt a better feeling. He found the captain's purse of gold next. This one felt a little heavier than the other one he'd taken. Taking it out from his back pocket, Ezekiel opened it up as well as the captain's purse and poured the gold from that one into the other, before tossing the now empty purse into the water and placing the now much more full purse back into his pocket.

The captain, now short a coat, sword and boots, lay before Ezekiel, who looked down at him. Shrugging to himself, Ezekiel gave the corpse a push with his boot and watched as it splashed into the icy water and sank beneath the surface. _Let the fish have a nice meal._

He slid his longsword into the scabbard, which he had also taken from the captain before dumping his body in the water, and sighted the next piece of ice he'd jump to. Much to his relief, this one, and all the ones next to it, were pressing against each other, so he would only have to take a single step and he'd be on the next piece of ice. He judged that he'd reach solid land in a few minutes.


	2. Chapter 2 - Winterhold

He waded out of the water and finally stepped onto dry land. The ground of the beach was stony and muddy, and squelched under his step, but it was land, and that was all that mattered.

Ezekiel slid his newly acquired longsword out of the scabbard to look it over for rust, but saw that it was only minimal. He sheathed the sword once again and then checked his purse of gold, which had remained firmly tied up in his back pocket. Satisfied, and with one last glance back out onto the icy sea, Ezekiel set off.

He didn't make for the snow-capped forest, which was only over the hill of the beach, but instead set off west, towards the mountains and cliffs. He would need to traverse them if he wanted to reach Winterhold soon. He could have taken the route through the forest, but that would have taken him much longer, and was in dire need of warmth and food, so he was willing to take the slightly more dangerous route of the mountain passes.

He walked along the drab and muddy coastline for what seemed like hours, though really it had only been ten minutes. On his right lay the thick, snow-capped forest, and to his left the icy sea, stretching as far as the eye could see. Ezekiel wrapped his fur cloak tighter around himself as he walked, the effects of swimming through freezing cold waters finally catching up to him. _Damn this cold. Would that I had been shipwrecked at Riften instead, with its alleged golden leaved forests and nice, comfortably warm climate. Instead I got stuck here, in this frozen dump._

The first mountain, which towered a hundred feet in front of him, was now close. Ezekiel surveyed it, looking for places to grab onto and climb. He found them, though was worried, since they were covered in snow, which could possibly make his grip fail and him fall. _I will need to be very careful here, or else wolves will feast on my broken corpse._

As if some cruel god had heard him, Ezekiel heard sound of a wolf's howl from behind him. He turned to see two large, hulking, grey-furred beasts standing twenty feet away from him, their fangs bared and postures indicating they were ready to attack. _Just my luck..._

Ezekiel sighed as he drew his longsword from its scabbard and held it low in two hands. The silence and stillness that followed in the next few seconds were intense, until finally the wolves attacked.

Both of them charged at Ezekiel at once, their paws kicking up snow as they ran. They were very fast, he saw, and they thirsted for blood. _My blood. Well, they'll have to kill me first to get it._

The first wolf was in front of the second now, and just as he was a foot away and was about to pounce upwards at Ezekiel, he swung with all his force the longsword. The blade slashed upwards, firmly connecting with the wolf's neck. Blood sprayed everywhere as the animal's carcass slumped to the ground, twitching and emitting a low moan as it died. Ezekiel had no time to look on, though, since immediately after the first wolf hit the ground the second was on him. Ezekiel didn't have time to ready another defence, so the beast had the advantage. It lunged at him, but fortunately Ezekiel managed to twist around at the last second. Instead of the wolf sinking its fangs into his throat, it bit into his arm. Ezekiel let out an agonized shout as he stumbled backwards. His first reaction being to get off whatever was on him, Ezekiel swung the hilt of the sword at the wolf's head. It connected, and the wolf was flung off his arm. Ezekiel felt blood well up and begin to seep out of his arm, and he clenched his teeth against the searing, burning pain. The wolf was now back on his feet and prepared to lunge again at Ezekiel, but he was too fast, and kicked the wolf as hard as he could right in the face. The beast whimpered as it was thrown off its feet and fell back onto the ground. Ezekiel wasted no time in dashing towards it and swinging his sword down onto its neck. He felt bone crunch as the blade sunk deep into the wolf's neck. Blood sprayed out, some hitting his face, when he pulled the blade out. Ezekiel panted with both pain and exertion as he looked over the two dead wolves, the first one finally succumbing to its wound.

Ezekiel cleaned the blade of his sword by running it through the snow before sheathing it and tending to his arm. The damned wolf had sunk its teeth into his forearm, but thankfully Ezekiel had managed to get it off him before it tore a chunk off. He only had some small bloody holes there instead, and though they were seeping blood steadily, it was much less fatal than it could have been.

Reaching down, Ezekiel ripped a strip of the bottom of his cloak off and tied it firmly around his wound. He cursed loudly as he did so, the pain excruciating. _That should hold the wound for now. But if I don't get to Winterhold soon, I may not make it._

So he approached the mountain, got a firm hand and foothold, and began to climb.

The going had been hard, especially considering Ezekiel's recent wound, but he made it. It had taken him half an hour to climb the first cliff, and once he reached the top he saw it. _The College of Winterhold. _

A single huge stone tower rose up from behind high walls, large windows cut into the top of them. A walled stone bridge connected the college to the rest of Winterhold. The bridge stretched across a chasm, with nothing underneath it save for the snow and water a hundred feet below. The single huge rock that the college rested on grew narrower and smaller the further down it went, but it still seemed hardy and firm.

Wrapping his fur coat tighter around him, Ezekiel set off down the slope of the cliff he was on, drawing ever nearer to Winterhold.

With great exertion he lifted himself the top of the cliff and rolled over onto his back. _I've made it._

It had taken him an hour to reach the edge of the village from when he first set sights on the College of Winterhold. He scaled cliffs with his bare hands and slid down the snowy slopes. He heard the howl of a wolf at one point, so he hid behind a thick tree trunk until he was sure it was gone. And now, he had finally done it. He had reached the village of Winterhold.

It was a pitiful thing, really. Several of the small wooden houses were half in ruin, with the roofs entirely caved in and snow covering them. The other buildings, to the other side of the path through the centre of the village, were few in number. There were a couple of larger, double-storied buildings, one of which looked like an inn. Several other shops lined the street, as well as personal residences. The single street was relatively empty, with only a few people here and there walking about. They were all clad in warm cloths, with scarves wrapped about their necks.

Ezekiel climbed up back onto his feet and entered the village, the stone bridge connecting with the mage college behind him. He received a few strange and curious glances from the villagers as he went by, but none approached him or said anything. Ezekiel walked over to the largest building, which turned out to be the inn, the swinging wooden sign outside naming it '_The Frozen Hearth_.' Ezekiel opened the door and entered.

He was immediately met with a rush of warmth. A large hearth burned away in the middle of the room, with a cooking put hung over it. Benches and tables lined the walls, and there were several doors, some opened and some closed, that Ezekiel presumed were the rooms for hire. All of the benches were empty save for one, where a small girl with blonde hair sat, brooding silently over a bowl of soup.

Ezekiel approached the counter at the other end of the room. Behind it was standing a tall and broad shouldered man with swept back dirty blond hair.

"Is it food you want, or a bed?" he asked gruffly.

"Both," Ezekiel answered. "But I'll take the food first."

"Very well. We've got meats and cheeses and bread, some fruits and vegetables as well. Even a couple of pastries and cakes, for an extra cost."

"I'll take some steak, if you've got any, and some cheese and bread."

"I should warn you, the steak's not exactly top quality."

Ezekiel shrugged. "I've had quite a journey here, I'd eat horse if I had to. What drinks have you got?"

"Just some good northern mead."

"I'll take a tankard of it or two."

"As you say. That'll come to twenty-five gold, all up."

"_Twenty-five_?" Ezekiel asked incredulously.

The innkeep shrugged. "It's wartime. I'm not the one blocking the trade routes. You have General Tullius to thank for that. Less food's getting brought up here, so it costs more. It's as simple as that."

"Fine then. Twenty-five gold it is," Ezekiel relented, taking out his purse of coins and counting twenty-five. He handed it over to the innkeep. "I'll pay for a bed later, when I'm finished eating and drinking."

"Aye. We've got several rooms available. Necalar's the only one renting one at the moment."

"Who's Necalar?" Ezekiel had not seen him anywhere.

"He is - well, he _was _a mage of the college, but he's been exiled. For 'bad research' or something like that. He spends all day locked up in his room," the innkeep explained. "Me, I'm Dagur, the owner of _The Frozen Hearth_. That girl you see sitting over there is Eirid, my daughter." When the girl heard her name being said she looked up at the two men, but said nothing. She went back to her soup. "And this," Dagur continued, gesturing over to a woman Ezekiel had not seen before, "is my wife Haran. She helps me run this place."

She was tall, Ezekiel saw, just like her husband. She had red hair tied back behind her head and prominent cheekbones. She looked to be around the same age as her husband. She was quite pretty, Ezekiel thought, but nothing special. She simply nodded greeting to Ezekiel.

"Please, take a seat, I'll have my wife bring your food and mead over soon," Dagur said.

Ezekiel nodded in thanks and took a seat on a bench on the other side of the room, at the far side and on the other side from the little girl. While he waited he took out his coin purse and spilled all of the coins onto the table. He began counting them. Minus the twenty-five he'd paid to the innkeep, Ezekiel still had two-hundred and fifty gold left. The question is, what would he do with it? What was he even going to do in the first place? _The Long Voyager _wasn't even destined for Skyrim. It was only passing by, to go to a further land, but the treacherous ice had put an end to that. _I suppose I could look for work somewhere. Not here, to be sure, but somewhere else. Maybe Solitude._

He scooped up his gold and put it back in the purse before putting it into his back pocket once again. When he had done this Haran approached, holding a wooden tray with his food and mead on it. She gave a faint, warm smile to Ezekiel as she put it down in front of him. Ezekiel merely nodded in thanks to her, and watched her backside as she walked away. _It's been too long since I've been with a woman. If only this one wasn't married... her husband wouldn't take kindly to finding us abed. Not that I'm afraid of him. Dagur seemed a fine enough man, but if he gave me trouble I'd kill him with ease. But then I'd have to kill the child as well._

Ezekiel shook these thoughts out of his head and began eating. The steak wasn't very fresh, as Dagur had warned, but it to Ezekiel, who hadn't eaten in nearly a full day, and was still only just shaking off the cold of outside, it was the most welcoming meal he'd ever had. The bread and cheese were the same quality as the steak, and the mead was only average. He savoured everything though, and left not a crumb after he'd finished eating. He skulled the rest of the mead and set his tankard down with a _clank_.

From the small windows on either side of the door Ezekiel could see it was nearing night. Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly exhausted, he got up from the bench and went back over to the counter. Dagur was cleaning out a tankard when Ezekiel came over.

"You done?"

He nodded.

"I'll have Hagan clear it up in a moment. Unless you want anything else?"

"No, I'm finished eating and drinking. How much for a room for the night?"

"Ten."

Ezekiel fished out the right amount of gold and handed it over.

"Alright, this way," Dagur said, walking out from behind the counter.

He led Ezekiel to the door on the left wall, closest to the counter. He took out a key ring and flicked through them until he found the right one. He unlocked the door and swung it open. The room was modestly sized and sparsely furnished, with only a bed, wardrobe, a small table and a single chair next to it. A small hearth was built into the far wall, but it was unlit.

"Alright, it's yours for the night," was all Dagur said before turning and leaving the room.

Ezekiel closed the door and unhooked his scabbard, took out his coin purse, stepped out of his boots and shrugged off his fur coat. He was going to light the hearth, but he found that he was too tired, so he just slumped onto the bed, and in mere seconds he was asleep.

He dreamt of waves splashing against the side of a ship, before it hit a huge, hulking piece of ice. It tore through the side of the hull, water filling the ship. He heard the panicked shouts of sailors, and the angry commands of the captain. But it was too no avail. The ship sunk, and they all drowned.

He woke up.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning, Ezekiel stretched out before climbing off the cheap bed. He put his boots and cloak back on, slid his coin purse into his pocket and attacked his scabbard to his hip. He left the room and closed the door behind him.

The light of morning flooded through the windows, and the hearth in the middle of the inn was burnt out and black. Dagur and Haran were lifting benches off tables and placing them down. Their daughter Eirid sat on the counter swinging her legs. A hooded dark elf sat by himself in the corner, brooding over a tankard. _Nelacar. _

"So you'll be off now, or do you to break your fast first?" Dagur asked when he saw Ezekiel.

"No, I'll be off now." He walked over to the door and placed his hand on the knob, but decided to turn and say, "thank you for your hospitality."

Dagur shrugged, "you paid for it."

Ezekiel opened the door and left, closing it firmly behind him, so as to trap all the warmth inside. He was not surprised to see that the village was just as quiet and sparse of people as it had been yesterday. The morning sun was nice and warm though, and with a full belly and a good night's sleep, Ezekiel felt much better than he had the day before.

As he walked along the street he saw a woman clad in boiled leather standing off to the side of the entrance to the village, leaning against the cliff face behind her. She had a hard face which was set in a permanent frown, as well as a long scar running from her forehead to jaw. She was not attractive. Ezekiel noticed a scabbard at her hip. _She must be a soldier, but if she was, where is the heraldry?_

"You there," she called out briskly as Ezekiel wandered by.

He turned to face her. "What do you want, woman? Can't you see I'm leaving?"

She clearly didn't like being referred to as 'woman,' but she ignored it. "Do you want a job?"

Ezekiel just stared at her for a while before answering carefully. "What sort of job?"

The woman gestured him over with a wave. Sighing, Ezekiel approached her.

"A bounty, I mean," she clarified.

"A bounty?" Ezekiel repeated.

"Yes. I'm a bounty hunter, but I also offer jobs to others."

"What does this job entail?"

"I give you a target, somebody that has a price on their head, and you go and find them and kill them."

"And you're offering me a job?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "So do you want it?"

"How much does it pay?"

"It varies from job to job, but the one I'm offering will pay three hundred gold."

_It's gold all the same, even if I have to kill to get it. And why not? That's what I'm best at._

"Alright, I'll do it," he told her.

"Good." She fumbled around in a pocket and pulled out a small scroll. She handed it to Ezekiel and said, "this is your target. All you have to do is find the target, kill him... or her, and bring the body... or head, to any bounty hunter contractor. They can be found in every city and village in Skyrim. Make sure you have the scroll as well, as proof that you are a bounty hunter. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Ezekiel answered, putting the scroll away in a pocket. He'd look over it later.

"You'll be paid when you show the scroll and corpse to a contractor."

Ezekiel nodded, wrapped his cloak tight around him and set off on the road, leaving the village of Winterhold behind him.


	3. Chapter 3 - Fort Kastav

He first saw the huge statue as he followed the road as it twisted around a corner. It stood on a snow-covered hill, atop a rocky outcrop. From where Ezekiel stood, which he judged was a good two-hundred feet away, it looked like a woman. She had her arms outstretched, one behind her and on in front of her. She was holding a crescent moon in the hand behind her and some sort of star-like object in the other. She had flowing robes that went down to her feet.

Ezekiel just stared at it for a while, trying to figure out what it was. _Probably some religious idol._

Deciding there was no harm in further investigating it, Ezekiel left the road he was following and set off into the snow, past the trees and began climbing the steep hill that led to the statue. As he drew nearer to the top, a set of stone steps led up onto an a stone platform. An stone alter lay right in front of the statue's legs, and behind the alter knelt someone in what look like prayer. The figure was hooded, and the cloak that he wore was black with a yellow stripe down in the middle.

He must have heard Ezekiel's steps behind him, for he stood up and turned.

It was a woman. A dark elf woman. _The worst of the worst._

"Are you here to pray with me?" she asked.

Ezekiel studied her carefully before asking, "pray to what?"

She turned and gave a sweeping gesture to the statue. "Azura, of course."

"Who is Azura?"

"A Daedric prince."

Ezekiel nodded in the statue's direction and said dryly, "it looks like a woman to me."

The dark elf was about to answer when suddenly her gaze on Ezekiel turned to one of horror and fear. Ezekiel narrowed his eyes in suspicion and she raised a pointing finger to him. She started backing away slowly as she said, "you... I see... I see great evil in your future... and death, and..." Suddenly she shouted, "stay away from me!"

"You speak nonsense, woman," Ezekiel said dismissively.

"You are... or will be... an evil man. You will do great evil, and harm to others! Begone! Begone and never come back here!"

She was pressed against the alter now, her eyes wide with fear, her finger pointing accusingly. "You will burn in hell for what you will do!"

_I've had enough of this._

"You mean _this_?" Ezekiel asked her, drawing his longsword from his scabbard and approaching the fanatic.

"Stay away from me! Azura protects me!"

Obviously Azura wasn't feeling very protective that day, as Ezekiel swung his sword sideways, lopping off her head cleanly. It hit the ground with a thud, followed shortly by the rest of the body. Blood began pooling from the stump of her neck. Ezekiel wiped his sword on the woman's robe, cleaning the blood off it before sheathing it.

_She shouldn't have been so annoying._

Ezekiel knelt down and did a quick search of the woman's headless corpse, but found no gold or any other valuables. The only thing on the alter was a single candle. Off to the side, though, Ezekiel saw a small open tent made of some sort of animal hide. Inside was a bedroll.

Dusk was slowly giving way to night now, so Ezekiel picked up the candle and took it into the tent, where he sat down on the bedroll and placed candle next to him. He took the scroll out of his pocket and opened it up, holding it near the candlelight to look at.

_Wanted_

_Leader of the bandit group staying in Lost Knife Hideout, 30 miles south of Winterhold_

_300 gold reward_

Ezekiel had already read it once while he walked, but he liked the look of the 300 gold part. He rolled it back up and put it back in his pocket. He unhooked his scabbard, blew out the candle and lay back on the bedroll. It had been a long day of walking, especially in the cold, so he fell asleep quickly.

The next morning he woke up late. The sun was almost at the highest point in the sky. He briskly got up, reattached his sword in its scabbard to his hip and left the tent. He cast one last glance at the headless corpse of the dark elf fanatic, and her severed head lying a foot away, and descended the stone steps. It was a windy day, so his cloak billowed and flapped behind him as he walked, keeping his head down. Ezekiel walked down the hill and back onto the road two-hundred feet away.

Ezekiel followed the road, not entirely sure where it led, but following it nonetheless. It was the only road in sight, and led south, the only direction that the scroll said. As he walked he saw a woman wrapped tightly in scarves and furs; so tightly in fact that Ezekiel could only barely make out that it was a woman. She was pulling a small wooden cart behind her, with a blanket thrown over the top of whatever its contents were. She merely nodded to Ezekiel as she walked past him. He watched her coldly as she went by. _I should have killed her and taken the cart. Maybe there was some food in there. The last time I ate was in Winterhold._

He did nothing though, and kept walking. An hour or so later the wind died down and he came across a large hole in the side of a cliff. Some dull light glowed inside. Outside a couple of crates were lying about, and a guard leaning against the cliff face with a lantern next to him. He wore the black scales and grey cloak of the guards of Winterhold. The iron full-faced helm showed nothing of his face.

Ezekiel left the road and wandered over to him. "What is this place?"

"Whistling Mine."

"Where is everyone, then?"

"Inside," the guard said, nodding to the huge hole in the rock. "Working."

"Why are you out here then?"

"It's wartime, and this mine's pretty far away from any villages or cities. I've been assigned to keep guard and make sure the workers are safe."

"Who would do them harm?"

The guard shrugged, "bandits mostly, but sometimes even Imperial soldiers."

"They come all the way out here?"

"Not often, but sometimes."

"There's only one of you," Ezekiel pointed out.

"Aye, but the mine hasn't been attacked yet, and I hope that continues. It's bloody cold out here, and I'd rather be back in Winterhold, but I was sent by the jarl, so here I am."

Ezekiel nodded. "I'll leave you to it then."

The guard grunted lazily as Ezekiel walked away back to the road.

He came upon the fort a couple of hours later.

It lay off to the left side of the road, its stone walls low and in poor condition. Where there weren't stone walls there were thick wooden spikes sticking up out of the snow, bunched close together. A wooden tower poked up over the walls. Ezekiel could vaguely make out a figure standing atop it.

_Maybe he can point me in the right direction of Long Knife Hideout._

Ezekiel wandered off the road and approached the fort. When he got close he saw that the person on the wooden watchtower was a dark elf with dull green skin and long, swept back grey hair. He had a short, forked beard, the same colour as his hair. He was clad in a plain black robe, with an iron dagger sheathed at his hip. "By on your way!" he shouted down at Ezekiel.

Ezekiel did not such thing. He stopped a few feet away from the wall and looked up at the man. "What is this place?"

"Fort Kastav, and it's in possession of my fellow mages and I," he explained. "Now I won't say it again, be on your way."

Ezekiel spat off to his side. "Or you'll do what, mage?"

The mage said nothing for a time, only stared down poisonously at Ezekiel. He eventually said in a low, threatening tone, "leave, or you'll die. Or at least, you'll wish you were dead."

Ezekiel couldn't help but grin. "I'd like to see you try."

"So be it."

The mage left the watchtower, and moments later Ezekiel heard him shouting commands. Ezekiel put a hand on the hilt of his longsword and waited. He couldn't hear anything for a time, but soon he heard a loud creaking to his right. He turned to see the double wooden doors under the stone archway of the fort slowly opening. Ezekiel turned to face that direction. When the doors were fully open, they came for him.

But they were not people. They were...

_Skeletons!?_

The bones looked old and had a strange bronze tint to them. Instead of eyes they just had a strange, bright blue light emitting from their eye sockets. There were two of them. One held a bow and had a quiver on its back full of arrows, and the other held a longsword in one hand.

Ezekiel ripped out his own sword and took an instinctive step back as they came for him. They were slow, however, and could only seem to move at a fast walk. Ezekiel gripped his sword with both hands and held it in a defensive position. As the skeleton with the bow readied an arrow, the other raised its sword above its head and brought it down at Ezekiel.

Ezekiel was ready for this though, and brought his own sword up to meet the skeleton's blade. Both impacted with each other with a _clang_. Ezekiel gripped his sword tighter and dug his feet into the snow as he tried to hold the skeleton's blade. The skeleton seemed to possess an incredible strength. It was only holding its sword with one hand, and yet he was almost overpowering Ezekiel.

Relenting, Ezekiel slid his sword along the blade of the skeletons', and spun around before slamming his longsword into the skeleton's side. The blade passed between the ribs and hit what seemed to be the spine. The skeleton let out an inhuman screech as it dropped its sword and fell onto its knees.

An arrow went whistling past Ezekiel's ear and clanked uselessly off a boulder behind him. Not wasting any more time, Ezekiel swung his sword horizontally, taking the kneeling skeleton's skull clean off. The collection of bones slumped lifelessly onto the snow, and Ezekiel started a run towards the archer. It was readying another arrow, and was just about to fire it when Ezekiel bounded up to it and knocked the bow lazily out of its hands before immediately brining his longsword back around and cutting the skeleton cleanly in half at the waist. The two halves dropped onto the snow.

Ezekiel panted as he looked back over the two _really _dead skeletons. _Let's see them try to fight me now, without a head or joined body._

He knew he should have left the fort at this point, forgetting about the mage and being on his way briskly, but he just couldn't leave it at that. _I'll teach that mage for trying to have me killed._

His longsword in one hand at his side, Ezekiel stalked towards the fort's gate and passed underneath the archway.

The courtyard was mostly empty of structures, with only a small stone keep on the other side. Ezekiel was approaching the door to it when he heard the voice from behind him.

"Come to die, then? Good, I wanted to finish you off myself."

Ezekiel turned to see the same mage he had talked to before. His dagger was still sheathed at his side. Ezekiel narrows his eyes at him in suspicion. _Was he going to try to use his magic on me?_

"You're mistaken, mage. It's not I who will die this day."

At that, Ezekiel broke into a sprint, raising his sword in both hands as he ran. The mage was ready for this, and closed his hands together. A blue blur of magic appeared, and he was about to cast it on Ezekiel, but he was too quick. Ezekiel's longsword came down on the mage's collarbone. The blade sunk deep, and the mage let out a pained scream. Ezekiel felt bone crunch as wrenched the blade out. The mage fell onto his back on the snow and twitched as he bled out profusely. _He'll be dead in seconds. A shame I couldn't prolong his suffering._

Ezekiel was about to sheath his sword when something struck him hard from behind. He tried to let out a gasp, but couldn't, as he fell face first onto the snow at the feet of the dying mage. Ezekiel's sword fell out of his grasp and lay a few feet away from him. He felt a sudden, sharp freezing cold come upon him, and it felt as if all his bones were seizing up. _Frost magic, must be. Damn mages._

Ezekiel managed to flip over onto his back, with great pain, to see another mage approaching him. This one was a woman, however. She wore the same black robe as the other. A haze of blue magic emitted from her left hand. She had long black hair which fell to the small of her back, and her skin was smooth and pale. Her eyes were a deep blue. _The beautiful ones are always the dangerous ones._

She smiled as she stopped and looked down at Ezekiel.

"What are you smiling at, _whore_?" Ezekiel spat the last word.

This just broadened her smile. "I was always the better mage, between the two of us," she said, looking at the corpse of the other mage. "He was older, but I was always faster and more skilled. And more dangerous," she added lastly.

"I...I..." Ezekiel tried to talk, but found he couldn't.

"Don't try to talk," she advised him. "We wouldn't want you to use up the last of your strength. You'll need that for when I prolong your suffering. And I can prolong it for a _very _long time."

She took a step towards Ezekiel and was about to reach down to grab a hold of him.

_Now's my only chance._

Mustering the last of his strength and control, Ezekiel grunted loudly as he swept his foot under the mage's legs. This caught her by surprise, and she was tripped. She fell onto the snow on her back, and Ezekiel sprung up. He felt the effects of her spell wearing off, and immediately picked up his longsword.

The woman looked to be getting up, so Ezekiel dashed towards her and planted a kick right in her stomach. She gasped as she slumped down again.

"I would normally take this chance to give you a good hard fucking," Ezekiel told her. "But it just so happens I already have other business that needs attending to."

With that he swung his sword down with both hands. Warm blood sprayed on his face as her head was separated from her body.

He bent down and ran his sword through the snow, cleaning all the blood off it. He sheathed it in his scabbard and left the fort, without giving it a second glance.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Road South

In the next day, the snow had started to disappear from the land, and instead was replaced by patches of dirt and grass. Snow still remained, but it was less intense than further north. The winds had completely gone now, and the weather had started to improve. Instead of the cold, harsh winds and freezing temperate, there was a pleasant and refreshing breeze, and the sun felt good on Ezekiel's back as he walked. It was midday when he got to the top of the ridge and saw the mill down the road.

There was three wooden buildings; the mill, which sat next to a river and a small waterfall, and two houses, one a bit larger than the other, but both single-story. Two men looked at be at work, one chopping wood and the other carrying the wood. They were unarmed, and looked like honest workers, so Ezekiel set off down the road towards the mill.

Ezekiel heard the crashing of the water from the small waterfall to the right of the mill into the river. Birds chirped and flew between trees, and the chopping _thud _of the axe splitting the wood all gave off a natural and serene atmosphere. _A quiet life, here, but a peaceful one. I suppose there are those that like that. Me, I prefer a sword in my hand and the life of fighting._

As Ezekiel descended the ridge and walked along the dirt road to the mill, both men stopped their work and turned to look at him approaching. The one carrying wood logs was pale with long black hair, and the one chopping the wood was gaunt with messy blonde hair. They looked around the same age, and both were nords.

"State your name and business, traveller," shouted the blond one, descending the wooden steps of the mill and standing square in front of Ezekiel a dozen feet away.

"I am Ezekiel, and I'm merely passing through. What is this place?"

"Anga's Mill, next to the Yorgrim river."

"Is this your own mill?"

"No, this place belongs to Aeri."

"And where is she?"

"Inside her house, not that it's any concern of yours."

Ezekiel couldn't help but notice he still held his wood-chopping axe firmly in one hand at his side.

"So be on your way, then, traveller," he said gruffly.

"I was wondering if I could trouble you for a map. I'm travelling someplace, you see, and I know it's south of here, but not the precise location."

"And where would that be?"

"Long Knife Hideout."

Suspicion was cast on the axeman's face, and he narrows his eyes. "And what business do you have there?"

"Work."

"Work? And what this work happen to be of the legal, law-abiding sort?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"It's well-known Long Knife has been the residence of an outlaw gang for quite some time now. None that enter that isn't one of them ever leaves."

"Aye," Ezekiel said, patting the pommel of his longsword, "and I'm going to change that."

"You were sent by the jarl?"

"No, but I mean to clear the cave out of all bandits all the same."

"And you're simply doing this out of good-will?"

_Gold, more like, but I'm not sure how he would react to that._

"They're a blight upon our land, and I mean to fix that," he said as convincingly as possible.

He seemed to weigh this up for a moment before sighing. "It was a map you wanted?"

"It was."

He nodded and turned to the other man, "go and fetch the map in the Common House, we have no need of it."

The black-haired pale nord went to the larger house and went inside. He came back out a few moments later holding a crinkled and folded map in his hand. He approached Ezekiel and handed it to him. Ezekiel nodded in thanks to them. "I appreciate it, my good men."

"Just see that you kill all them bastards holed up in there. They've caused much harm over the past few months, to good, decent people."

_Spare me your stories, I don't care about the people, it's the gold I want._

"I will."

"Long Knife's another twenty miles that way," he said, turning and pointing behind him. "Be careful, the roads are more dangerous than they used to be, what with the war and such."

"I understand."

At that, Ezekiel slid the map into his pocket and walked past then two men and left the mill behind. He felt their stares on his back as he walked away.

He heard the horses before he saw them.

They came up the small hill on the road, trotting as a leisurely pace, two of them following another. Ezekiel instinctively put his hand to his sword hilt.

The dark blue robes flapped in the breeze behind them. Underneath this they wore padded brown tunics, and chainmail under this. All three of them wore open-faced iron helms. Ezekiel saw one of them was a woman. Swords were at their hips, and the woman riding at the back had a bow slung over her back. They slowed their horses to a stop when they saw Ezekiel.

"Who are you?" the lead horseman said.

Ezekiel eyed him suspiciously. "Tell me who you are and I'll tell you who I am."

The horseman's eyes narrowed at Ezekiel, and he clearly didn't look pleased at being talked to this way, be he answered nonetheless. "We are soldiers serving Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak."

Ezekiel had heard of this Ulfric Stormcloak on his travels. Apparently he was the jarl of Windhelm and the leader of some kind of rebellion against the Imperial Legion. "I see."

"I told you who we are, now you tell us who you are."

"I am Ezekiel."

"And your allegiance, Ezekiel?"

_He wants to know if I'm with them or against them. Does he honestly think I'd tell him I supported the Imperials even if I actually did?_

"I support Jarl Ulfric, as all honest men do."

The lead Stormcloak mulled on this before finally nodding, "very well. Be on your way, Ezekiel, and by wary. The roads are not very safe anymore, thanks to Tullius and his lapdogs."

_So everyone's telling me._

"I will be, thank you."

The leader of the small band gave a gesture to the other two riders, and they set off again on a trot past Ezekiel and down the road. Ezekiel turned and watched them go. When they were beyond his sight he faced south and continued along the road.

When the light of dusk began to fade, Ezekiel decided to make an end of the day. He went off the road and climbed a small hill next to it. He found a large oak tree and unhooked his scabbard before slumping against the trunk, placing his sword next to him, should he have need of it. He took out his newly acquired map and unfolded it. The dark pink glow of dusk gave him sufficient light to read it.

It was a fairly detailed map, showing the main cities, towns and villages of Skyrim, as well as the borders of the lands. It also showed the various bridges, rivers, towers, caves and mines, and a small scale was scrawled at the bottom right of the map. Every inch on the map covered ten miles. Ezekiel saw that he was fairly close to Windhelm, seat of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. If he guessed right, he was about ten miles west of the city. The Yorgrim river, which Ezekiel could faintly hear, ran all the way from the mountains south-west of Winterhold to the eastern sea. The only bridge across the river was five miles from Windhelm. _That's where I must cross._ Once he had crossed, it was another thirty miles south to the next bridge, and another ten miles south of that was where Lost Knife lay. _Forty-five miles. Quite a journey. I won't be able to make it on foot, I'll need a horse._

By the time Ezekiel had finished studying the map, the sun had completely set, and darkness washed over the land. He folded the map back up, put it in his pocket and shifted around until he found a relatively comfortable spot, and soon fell asleep.

It was late morning when he reached the bridge.

It wasn't a very large bridge. It was stone, and looked to have been quite old, judging by the loose stones and deep cracks. It stretched over a river, which while small wasn't small enough to wade through. The water looked clean and fresh. The bridge was wide enough to have five men walking abreast on it, and stretched on for fifty feet over the river. It had begun to snow again, so the stones were covered in white, which would make the going tough on a horse.

As Ezekiel followed the road and descended the hill down towards the bridge, he could vaguely see the stone towers of Windhelm rising up in the east, over frozen rivers and snow-capped mountains.

Ezekiel wrapped his cloak tighter around him for warmth as he began walking across the bridge. His boots crunched on the snow as he walked. Soon he could hear what sounded like hoof beats on stone. _A horse. This is my chance. _

Ezekiel dropped down and slumped against the raised stone of the edge of the bridge. He rested his head against it and started groaning in pain. In a few seconds he saw the horse with its rider come into view. He looked to be only wearing leather and furs, and didn't bear a sword at his hip but only a small dagger. He looked to be well past forty.

When the man saw Ezekiel slumped against the wall of the bridge in pain he brought his horse to a stop.

"Are you alright my good man?" he called out from ten feet away.

Ezekiel groaned, "I...I was robbed. They... they stabbed me in the side."

The man immediately got down from his horse and approached Ezekiel. "Let me take a look at that-"

Before he could finish his sentence Ezekiel quickly drew his longsword and shoved it into the man's stomach. He let out a pained gasp as Ezekiel pushed the blade in further. He had a look of confusion.

"But... but..."

"Sorry old man," Ezekiel said mildly as he stood up, the blade still in the man. He pulled the man around and ripped the sword out of him. The old man desperately tried to cover his wound, the blood now seeping out, but it was to no avail. He stumbled backwards, and with a helping kick from Ezekiel, he fell backwards over the stone and splashed down into the freezing water of the river below.

Casting a glance over the edge to see the corpse of the man float away, Ezekiel cleaned the blood off his sword with some snow and sheathed it once again. He turned to the horse and studied it. It looked like a hardy and good beast. _It'll do just fine._

Ezekiel approached the horse, and, when it didn't do anything to stop him, he grabbed a hold of the saddle and swung himself onto it. He turned it around back to the direction it had just come from and gave it a spur. He set off across the bridge towards the other side of the river, and one step closer to his task.


End file.
